


To Choose, Slowly and Sweetly

by TrickyTricky



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ace!Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexuality, Gen, Gray-Asexuality, Platonic Cuddling, Taking care of one another, Tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22116364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyTricky/pseuds/TrickyTricky
Summary: Obi-Wan's stubborn insistence that his biology and physical needs have no place in his life as a leader in a galaxy-spanning war has finally met its match.A slightly late offering for SubObi Week, Day 5 - Omegaverse.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Longshot & Crys
Comments: 44
Kudos: 551
Collections: SubObi Weeks





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan puttered about his quarters, sorting through his selection of teas and pulling out a few variants that he enjoyed himself and recalled that Cody had seemed to favor when they’d tried different blends in the past. He looked down at his chrono then flipped a switch on the small water heater. The commander would be coming by shortly to go over the weekly requisition forms with him in the office portion of his quarters and today he felt it would be particularly nice to have something to provide him in welcome. 

He found himself restless, pacing endlessly back and forth over the threshold that separated his sleeping area from his desk, pausing often by his bed to twitch the rough wool blanket and cotton sheets a little more askew, moving the thin, shabby pillow first to the left, then right, then leaning it up so it was situated in the middle of the bunk against the bulkhead…

Ah.

He took a moment to mentally tally the weeks and heaved an irritated sigh at what they added up to. There was never a _good_ time for this distracting nonsense to descend on him, but it could have been worse. It _had_ been far worse before. At least they weren’t in the middle of a ground-side siege this time, short on rations, covered in mud, their bodies fighting off constant sniffles and coughs from the dismal, perpetual chill. Here, for now, he was warm and secure among his men, and could avail himself of the limited comforts that could be found on board a warship. 

When the door chime sounded, Obi-Wan sighed again, but didn’t hesitate to answer it. He’d never allowed his heats to interfere with the performance of his duties before, and there was no reason to start now. As the door slid open with a quiet _hiss_ , he could only blink dumbly for a moment at the sight of his commander standing just outside, wordlessly holding out a plump little pillow. Cody was wearing the officer grays that he so seldom donned, and something about the unusual lack of armor was gentling his edges, made him seem unthreatening. He had a carefully controlled blankness about his face as he held out the small offering.

The cushion was a pale shade of blue that seemed particularly appealing when compared against the bright passageway lights and sharp white, black contrasts of the Republic cruiser. It looked very soft.

“What is this?” Obi-Wan asked, not quite able to keep the suspicion out of his voice. To date, although the GAR had already been in existence for over a year, there had been blessedly few incidents involving gender discrimination or harassment by any of the clone troopers, and none at all reported about the troopers within his own battalion. Many in the Senate had been concerned about the potential for internal conflict with an army comprised of millions of alphas when the Republic’s military had first been formally declared. True alpha designations had previously been nearly as biologically rare to find as a fully natural omega in the galaxy, their scarcity increasing century by century as recessive genetics continued to slowly breed the feature out of the human species. With the sudden surge in concentrated numbers of alphas, no one had really known whether or not there would be any difficulties with integration.

Thankfully, they had found that, for the most part, no adjustment had been needed, as the troopers were generally disciplined and just plain _decent_ enough to overcome any heightened aggression in their base instincts that might have otherwise led to difficulties.

Cody pointedly looked down at the pillow in his hand then back up at Obi-Wan, raising one eyebrow. “Do you really want to have this conversation out in the passageway?”

Acknowledging the point, Obi-Wan stepped aside and waved the other man in, allowing the door to slide closed behind him. All other considerations aside, they would still need to talk through the current business of the Third Army and develop the plan of the week. 

He had the strong impression that Cody had other topics of conversation in mind, and repeated his previous question even while he couldn’t imagine an answer his commander could come up with that wouldn’t touch on subjects he’d always done his level best to keep from interfering with his professional conduct during this war. His own biology would _not_ become a liability that would impact the troopers he was responsible for.

He wouldn’t permit it.

“Now I’ll have an answer, if you please. What is this?”

“Pretty obvious, I’d think,” Cody said, his voice casual, but with undeniable undercurrents of amusement that he was doing a poor job of suppressing.

Obi-Wan caught his fingers flexing at his sides and brought his hands together in front of his body, hiding them within the deep sleeves of his robe as he clasped them tightly together.

It really did look lovely and soft.

“Cody, while I do of course appreciate the thought, this is truly not necessary. I haven’t indulged in this sort of frippery since the war began, and have no need to start again now.”

“Need?” Cody asked, tilting his head a little to the side, conveying a planet’s worth of exasperation in the simple gesture. “Of course you don’t _need_ it. None of us _need_ to indulge in to any of the vestigial instincts that ride along with our biology… we’re rational, thinking creatures who can determine our own choices and actions. But that doesn’t mean we can’t relax a little now and then when it’s possible. It doesn’t mean we can’t help take care of each other in ways that will make us feel good when we have the chance.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip, and, to his complete and utter mortification, could feel a hot flush spreading across his cheeks. He’d always been fair-skinned and prone to an obvious blush when he was flustered, an undesirable tell at the negotiating table that his master had spent years trying to train out of him. Something about the rising hormone levels he experienced during the lead-up to his heats always left him even more prone to them than normal.

He felt another automatic refusal rising to the tip of his tongue, but paused for a moment, a rising, tingling sense of almost giddy hope and anticipation suddenly kissing his skin with little bursts like sparks. He closed his eyes and let his mind blossom open just a little further into his connection to the Force, his connection to all life around him, his connection to that intensely glowing forge of light that was _Cody_. 

Of course, this was not only about him, it couldn’t be. They were all tied to one another, after all. Cody wanted to help, to _provide_ something special to a person he cared about, someone who he wanted to support. Obi-Wan knew how much fulfillment could be found in helping, in giving to others; it was the entire basis of what his people and his own life had been built around. Who was he to deny that satisfaction to another?

He found the pillow was just as soft as it had looked when he slowly reached out and took it from Cody’s outstretched hands. His fingers clenched tight around it instinctively. He barely managed to suppress the urge to bring it up to his face and bury his nose into it right then and there, nuzzle up against it and inhale whatever scent from his friend might still be clinging to it, rub his cheek against it and begin the process of imbuing it with his own. 

Instead he clung to the silly little shreds of dignity he had left and took the few steps needed to bring him over to the divider between his work and sleep areas, leaving the door open behind him as he leaned over his bunk and settled the pillow down. He took a few minutes to ruffle the sheets and blanket up even further, doing his best to arrange the vexingly too-small, too-few lengths of cloth into curving folds of fabric across the surface of the bed until they flowed in a pleasing way around the pretty little blue pillow he had situated in the center of his nest.

Cody was right once again, as he so often was.

It was a simple little gesture, but seeing the token there, running his fingers over the soft textured cloth of it, lit an undeniable flicker of satisfaction and joy deep in his belly where the animal part of him was purring with content. Obi-Wan was smiling when he went back out to the main area and began to pour hot water into two mugs. Cody took half a step in his direction, as if to help, and Obi-Wan waved him away, his smile widening just a bit. 

“Please, allow me,” he said, holding up the three variants of tea he’d selected as likely options with a questioning look. 

“The Alderaanian grey for me today, thank you,” Cody said, his voice revealing his pleasure that Obi-Wan had remembered his preferences. 

Obi-Wan set the infusers in place to steep, a metal spoon clinking softly against the mug as he added a bit of sweetener to Cody’s cup. He picked both up, then hesitated as he looked over at his desk, which he usually sat behind during these meetings, with Cody in the chair across.

“Did you want to–” he cut himself off mid-word, surprised at himself for beginning to speak the thought aloud before he’d decided whether he truly wanted to express it or not. That wasn’t like him. The beginning of an invitation to join him in the sleeping quarters portion of his room had slipped free without his permission. Was it inappropriate? Would it have made Cody uncomfortable to be asked to work in such an unprofessional setting? 

Cody just looked over at him with warm eyes and a fond smile. “Do you mind if we work in your room just for today? It looks comfortable.”

Obi-Wan nodded, a little lump in his throat and the feeling of that damn flush heating his cheeks once again. He stepped slowly across the threshold into the room, carefully balancing the two full mugs of hot tea in his hands, then paused, unsure. Cody brushed past him, a datapad in one hand and carrying the chair from in front of his desk with the other. He situated it next to the bunk and settled himself in. 

Obi-Wan handed over his mug and smiled, pleased, when he again felt that same rush of sparkling, giddy, bone-deep pleasure practically burst from Cody as he carefully cradled the cup of tea his general had prepared and provided just for him. 

Cody held out his hand for Obi-Wan’s cup as well, nodding his head wordlessly towards the tangled mess of blanket and sheets.

In for a credit, in for the stick, Obi-Wan supposed, and climbed into his bunk. He was immediately distracted, spending several seconds turning this way and that, completely absorbed in the task of situating his sleeping pillow comfortably behind himself in the corner between two bulkheads so he could lean up against it, curling his legs up underneath himself and twitching the blankets and sheets up around himself until they were positioned just so. His sleeping pillow was thin, military-issued, the blankets and sheets too few to form a true nest out of and scratchy against his skin, but he would make due, and be grateful for what he had.

It was enough, it was just barely enough to calm the unrest inside of him, to settle the unruly need that always tried to overwhelm him during these times. He could be satisfied with this.

Then the moment he’d been looking forward to, savoring. He looked over to his left where half the bunk remained unoccupied and that lovely blue cushion lay, a soft, pretty jewel that he could take genuine pride in displaying at the center of his nest. When he looked back over at Cody, the man was leaning forward in the chair, relaxed, his elbows braced on his thighs as he took a careful sip of the hot tea.

His whole being looked soft and happy, to a degree that Obi-Wan couldn’t recall ever seeing in him before. But there was something just a little off still, something that spoke of an unsatisfied yearning remained in his eyes.

“Cody, if you’d like...only if you’d like…” Obi-Wan stopped, the words catching in his throat. Oh, but this truly was difficult to navigate. Things had been so much simpler back in the Temple, before the war. Then, when he had need, he could reach out into the golden, glowing threads of the Force and always find a brother or sister reaching back for him, finding the spiritual closeness they craved by curling up and pressing their very selves together until they formed a perfectly merged whole. Now, his people were scattered across the galaxy, more and more dying every day on a thousand distant battlefields so that the innocent might know another moment of peace. 

But the clone troopers he fought beside...the men he might very well end up dying beside one day soon if the war continued on the course it had been...they had become his people, too. Surely there was a way to find a manner of wholeness with them as well. After all, if it was something Obi-Wan felt a desire for as an omega, only half of what was intended by his biology to be a whole, it may very well be something the alphas in his company wanted as well, something he could offer that might bring someone some much-needed peace in the midst of all this pain and conflict.

“You would be welcome here beside me. Only if you’d like.” Obi-Wan finally said. 

Cody sucked in a sharp breath, reaching his other hand up to steady his mug when the drink almost spilled in his surprise.

“I don’t want to intrude,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding nearly as young as he truly was in years lived. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please, if you’d like to share with me, you’d be welcome here in my nest.”

Cody leaned down for a moment to pull off his boots, lining them up neatly with the heels pressed against the edge of the bunk. He straightened, but kept his head ducked as he clambered forward onto the mattress, a shyness about his manner that Obi-Wan had never before seen in his gruff, competent commander.

Obi-Wan left him in peace to settle in, kneading the fingers of one hand absently into the lovely blue pillow that he kept settled in the center of the bunk between them. When Cody’s restless fidgeting and position changes didn’t ease after about a minute, Obi-Wan reached out to lay a tentative hand against his arm.

“Is something wrong? If you aren’t comfortable, you aren’t in any way obliged to stay. Please don’t feel as if you have to in order to make me feel better.”

“No, it’s not that,” Cody said, cutting him off almost before he could finish speaking. “It’s not that at all. It’s just…” 

His words trailed off into silence, followed by an irritated grunt of wordless frustration.

“It’s just not quite right. Here, can we just…” Cody fell silent again, his own hand falling to clasp firmly over Obi-Wan’s wrist where he’d reached out and tugging against it insistently. Obi-Wan moved over to where he was being pulled, willing to follow, _happy_ to follow. When Cody was finished, they were both stretched out, reclining next to each full length along the mattress rather than curled up separately on each half. Obi-Wan was still clasping his new pillow closely, and it lay between them now as they curled slightly towards one another with mutual sighs of instinctive peace as they both relaxed. 

Obi-Wan smiled when he realized what was going on. Cody had positioned himself so that his body was now interposed between the entryway and the rest of the nest, postured to protect the omega in the room from any danger that might emerge. It soothed something inside himself to allow himself the luxury of relaxing behind the strength of that vigilant protection, though his eyes darted quickly over to the shelf in easy reach where his lightsaber lay softly humming. 

Should any true threats emerge, its bright blade would be a shield behind which Cody could shelter, as it always had. Gender instincts be damned.

“You know, there’s a whole sub-genre of romance literature that deals with this sort of thing,” Cody said, his voice slow and sleepy. “We pass datapads with those stories on it around between ourselves now and then. A bit of a guilty pleasure.”

“I’m aware,” Obi-Wan replied, feeling like he was on the verge of drifting off into a nap himself. “I’ve even contributed a few donations to your shared library that I particularly enjoyed myself.”

Between the two of them, they’d finally reached a familiar and long-missed complementary resonance that Obi-Wan could feel rippling soothingly through their connection within the Force. He’d found this balance before with some of the other rare alphas he’d bonded with in the Jedi Temple during the times when he’d needed it most, but he hadn’t been free to fall into this deep well of peace in years. 

Oh, he truly had missed it.

“So, I’ve read descriptions of this. Being invited into a nest. The feeling, the warmth and welcome of it. But this is...I didn’t...none of the descriptions in the books captured anything like the reality of this.” The sheer amount of dazed wonder and happiness in Cody’s voice shook Obi-Wan to the core. He deserved that happiness and so much more. All of the men he fought alongside did. “And in case you _weren’t_ aware, there’s plenty more blankets in storage.” 

Cody was sounding more and more content with every passing second, his voice a low rumble, clearly on the verge of breaking out into a full-on deep-throated purr. “No one needs to go without. I can have one of the men bring a few more in here tomorrow if you’d like.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it again, the habit of refusing what he still considered unnecessary luxury difficult to break even now. Allowing someone to do him a kindness could bring as much joy to the giver as himself the recipient; he had to remember that. “Only if you think no one else will need them. If you think there’s someone who won’t be bothered by the favor of bringing them by.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of someones,” Cody assured. “Just keep your kettle warm, fix them up a little treat, and perhaps consider sharing the warmth of your nest, allow them to watch over your rest and gain the assurance of your favor. I can say with absolute confidence that you will be bringing as much warmth into their lives as they’re bringing into yours.”

“That sounds lovely,” Obi-Wan murmured, feeling the low rumble of his own satisfied purr start up deep in his own chest in response to the well-provided-for alpha curled up safe and satiated at his side. He didn’t try to hold it back.

The reports still needed looking over, an absent corner of his mind noted.

But there would be time for that task in the future. For now, there was this. This kindness and wonder and open generosity of spirit. 

He let himself offer it, and he opened himself up to the possibility of receiving it as well for the first time since the war had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan paced restlessly, pausing now and then to take deep, steadying breaths. Mindful control was always more difficult to achieve when his familiar bio-rhythms were thrown into disarray by his heats. But difficult didn’t mean impossible. He had all the tools he needed to remain in control of his mental landscape and knew that he remained as accountable for the impact he had on others during this span of time as he did on any other day when control came far more easily. He’d tasted the sticky, bitter imprints left behind like a bruise on the Force when the passions of powerful psychics were unleashed on the world around them without thought for how they might impact others; he had no desire to cause such thoughtless harm himself.

He'd drafted up a short message to Cody that morning, asking him to send someone by around noon to drop off some additional bedding if it was still available and not desired by anyone else, and, if the trooper running the errand was interested, perhaps to stay afterwards for a short visit. He'd agonized over the wording, going back and editing the three short sentences again and again. After nearly fifteen minutes, a sudden sense of exasperation at his own ridiculousness had overcome him and he'd clicked on the 'transmit' button before he could waffle any further.

As much as he tried to tell himself that his anxiety was unwarranted, his jitters refused to be entirely banished. He knew his men, each and every one of them, and there wasn’t a soul in the 212th who would harm him in any way. Of course, just because they would never knowingly hurt him, didn’t mean there weren’t many ways this could all go wrong. His mind continued to circle back around to his misgivings nearly as fast as he could reason them away.

He worried about misunderstandings. What if the man who ended up coming by had gained the wrong impression of what his intentions were? What if they expected more than he was willing to give? He had no interest in sex with any of the troopers stationed on board the Negotiator. He rarely felt an interest in sex with anyone at _all_. Just because his heat caused his body’s arousal triggers to ramp up didn’t mean he would suddenly start feeling actual _attraction_ to the people surrounding him.

He worried about whether this would have a negative impact on the command’s cohesion and discipline. Would the men he shared this side of himself with think him any weaker for it, would there be any hesitation in following his orders once they were back in the field? Would doing this, allowing this intimacy with only a select few at a time create any jealousy or rifts among the ranks? He...needed to see how this would go, how it would work, but he thought he would probably be willing to share this with all of his men, given time. He loved them all, carried every single one of their names in a special place in his heart, but it was just impossible to share this with all six hundred members of his battalion at once.

Not that all of them would be interested, of course, and he certainly shouldn’t be so arrogant as to presume.

Obi-Wan stopped pacing and closed his eyes, determined to get control of his racing thoughts. He let himself sink to the floor right where he stood, falling into a relaxed kneeling position and resting his hands comfortably on his thighs. He drew in another deep breath, pulling in air steadily through his nose and counting to six, then held it for a slow count of twelve, encouraging his heartbeat to slow and steady and calm beneath his ribs as he did. As the count echoed in the background of his mind, he tugged at the threads of his racing thoughts and emotions, seeking to examine his fears from every angle. He pursed his lips and blew out slowly, letting the air flow from him, taking with it portions of his stress and tension with every passing second. When his lungs were completely emptied, he began again, breathing in as he allowed his thoughts to float past his mind’s eye, holding the lungful of air for a small eternity as he considered the root of his worries and what was truly driving them. With each slow exhale, he strove to release the fears that had not yet manifested in his present, that were based solely on future unknowns and formless anxiety, and would only serve to hold him back if he let them.

He breathed in, continuing to examine his own thoughts and reactions with a mindful focus before allowing them to drift away, then exhaled long and steady into the Force again and again until finally he’d achieved a measure of the peace and balance that he sought.

He let himself simply _be_ , reaching out with his feelings of appreciation for the quiet peace of his present moment and revelling in the fulfillment of his connections with the lives all around him. He opened himself to the Force flowing through him, around him, ceaseless, unmeasured.

Time passed.

The sound of the door chime eventually broke him out of his meditation. He blinked his eyes open and smiled. A flutter of nerves tried to make itself known, but it was easy enough to banish in the wake of his recent mental exercise. There was no need to fear. They would all take the situation as it came. He trusted his men, and hoped they felt comfortable trusting him in turn. He would ensure he gave them no reason to doubt or regret that. As long as they were all willing to deal openly and honestly with any friction as it arose, there was no reason to expect that this would be anything other than an entirely positive development in their lives.

When the door slid open, he was somewhat taken aback to see two men standing outside rather than the one he’d been expecting. The first was holding an armful of what looked like nearly a dozen stacked blankets and sheets, all the standard, faded industrial gray that every member of the GAR had become intimately familiar with. His eyes were barely visible above the tall bundle, while the man accompanying him was a bit behind him and to the side, his posture far more hesitant, standing in a loose parade-rest with his hands held behind his back.

“Hey, sir,” Longshot said, his voice somewhat muffled behind the ridiculously tall stack of blankets he held. The relaxed but rueful tone of his voice spoke volumes all on its own. “So, I know what you’re probably thinking, but really, if you hear me out, this makes perfect sense.”

Obi-Wan’s lips quirked up involuntarily as he raised one eyebrow and tried to keep his face as smooth as possible. He’d come to look forward to that tone of voice, always a prelude to an entertaining anecdote or implausible series of events intended to excuse the trooper from some minor misdeed. That tone was somehow distinct and absolutely unique to Longshot; no matter the circumstances, it always managed to bring a spot of cheer to Obi-Wan’s day. It only emerged when the young man knew he’d been caught stepping out of bounds, but was still determined to convince others of his innocence.

Cody called it ‘tap-dancing’, apparently nick-named after a fast-paced traditional dance originating on the Devaronian homeworld, and had once acknowledged privately that Longshot was an undisputed master of the art with a fond eye roll. Obi-Wan had always thought it indicated a promising penchant for the art of negotiation, and he looked forward to the days after the war when he might be able to convince Longshot to enter a training program to pursue a career in that field.

Obi-Wan couldn’t maintain his sabacc face in the face of the hopeful eyes of the two troopers staring imploringly at him for longer than a handful of seconds. He stood aside with a small laugh, waving them into his quarters.

“I’m sure it does, Longshot. Good afternoon, Crys. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable.” He waved to the handful of chairs pushed in under the small conference table in his office, and reached out to help Longshot with his burden of linens only to be rebuffed.

“Don’t worry about that, sir, I’ve got it,” Longshot said, making his way over to the table with a few steps and carefully setting the tall bundle down.

After securing the door behind him, Obi-Wan looked over to find that rather than pulling out a chair and sitting, Crys had just moved a little further into the room and was shifting on his feet nervously. It was clear now that he was keeping his hands behind his back deliberately, seemingly holding something that he was trying to keep hidden from Obi-Wan’s view.

“I really don’t mean to intrude, sir,” Crys said quickly, as soon as Obi-Wan made eye contact with him. “I can go, it’s not a problem. Longshot was just talking about what the commander said and what he was bringing over here and why he was doing it. And then, I thought, well I had this— I mean, he said another person coming along wouldn’t be an issue, and that you would definitely like—”

“Oh, just give it to him!” Longshot said, knocking his shoulder _hard_ into his brother’s and sending him staggering off balance before he managed to right himself with a glare and an indignant noise. Crys jabbed his elbow out sharply in retaliation, earning a strangled grunt of discomfort from Longshot, before he stepped away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Here, General, for you,” Crys said, straightening up and extending his hand, a painfully earnest look on his face and tentative anticipation in his eyes.

He was holding a small blanket. It looked like a hand-knit afgan intended to be draped across a lap, multiple colors threaded through the tight weave, blues and greens and purples with an occasional vivid streak of gold shining through.

It was _beautiful_.

Ah, it was so beautiful, and looked delightfully soft, and Obi-Wan felt his stomach actually clench with admiration of the lovely little thing. He tore his eyes away and looked up at Crys, who was looking back with a soft smile, then over to Longshot, who was rocking back and forth on his heels with a wide grin on his face. He truly didn’t deserve these men.

He could only imagine how much a unique item like this, clearly handcrafted by a skilled artisan with high-quality materials, would have set the trooper back. He must have saved up his pay-creds for weeks to be able to afford it. Obi-Wan had been with the 212th since nearly the beginning of the war, and they’d been billeted together on board the Negotiator for nearly nine months of that. Over time, he knew that many of the troopers had gradually accumulated personal tokens from the planets they’d deployed to, decorative items and other small luxuries that expressed their own individual preferences. An item like this...it undoubtedly held special meaning and had to be incredibly important to the man holding it out.

“Crys, thank you so much, but this is too much; I can’t possibly accept.”

“Oh.” Somehow that one syllable managed to contain a galaxy’s worth of disappointment. The hand that had been holding out the blanket dropped limply to his side. “I mean, yeah, of course! Sorry, it was a stupid idea, I didn’t mean to waste your time...”

Obi-Wan felt his own stomach drop at the sudden surge of mortification and rejection that spilled out from the man who had been so shining and hopeful within the Force just a moment before. That wasn’t...he hadn’t meant… His hand shot out without his conscious direction and Crys’s words stumbled to a halt, apparently as taken aback by Obi-Wan’s sudden gesture as he was himself.

They both stared wordlessly at his outstretched hand for a moment of awkward silence, looking up at the same time to meet one another’s eyes again.

“It’s not that— it’s not that I don’t want it, not that I don’t deeply appreciate your thoughtfulness in offering this. Crys, I would be honored to accept it, if that is truly what you want, but are you sure? It’s so beautiful, the last thing I would wish would be for you to deprive yourself of one of the few things that must bring a little brightness into your life.”

Crys stared at him in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, thoughtfully weighing the blanket in his hand. His mouth firmed and he stepped forward, reaching out again and draping the blanket over Obi-Wan’s outstretched hand with a determined gesture.

“If you want it, then I want you to have it,” he declared. “It’s pretty, and warm, and I’ve enjoyed having it, but it’s just a _thing_. It only makes me feel good because of what it represents. Knowing that I gave it to you, that you liked it, that it’s something that can make you feel nice when you’re going through something like this... that would— Well, that would be something really special.”

Every now and then Obi-Wan would be startled anew to hear something so akin to the Jedi’s own cultural outlook expressed in a parallel form by one of the troopers he worked so closely with. Of course, it made a certain amount of sense that some of the Jedi’s own views and values might be absorbed into the burgeoning culture the clones were settling more firmly into with every passing day outside of the restrictive controls they’d experienced on Kamino. But so many cultures throughout the galaxy centered their lives around materialism, on accumulating possessions to enhance their own comfort, to be pleasing to the eye, on achieving personal or professional status at the expense of others. And while they always strove for unbiased approaches and acceptance of differences, it was easy for someone raised on the ideals of the Jedi to feel somewhat alienated when interacting with others outside their own Order when they so often had such intrinsically different mindsets and motivations.

He’d encountered many others throughout the galaxy during his travels who might have made a similar offer, but it was vanishingly rare for it to actually be sincere. From anyone else, it would have been a token gesture, performative, something all parties knew was for politeness’ sake alone and intended to be declined. But this...this was something different. Something familiar. Crys was practically glowing with the same heartfelt, selfless light that Obi-Wan had grown up surrounded by within the Temple. He’d always held such encounters particularly close to his heart when they happened outside of its walls.

The fact that so many of the troopers had managed to hold onto such a crystalline core of goodness, of honor and compassion, despite the harshness of their circumstances was nothing short of miraculous. Obi-Wan felt a deep well of gratitude rise up within him as he acknowledged how precious this moment, this man, was to him. How precious they all were.

“You’re a good man, Crys,” Obi-Wan said simply, pulling the blanket towards himself and cradling it carefully against his chest. “Thank you. It’s lovely and I’ll treasure it.”

His acceptance was immediately rewarded with a bright, shy smile and the light dusting of a faint blush creeping up around Crys’s sharp cheekbones.

“Do you want to get set up with it now?” Longshot interjected, his eyes darting back and forth eagerly between Obi-Wan and the door that led to his private quarters. “I mean, with all of it? Just, we want you to be comfortable, that’s all.”

Subtlety and discretion were not Longshot’s strong suits, that much was certain. Something he could help cultivate perhaps. He made a mental note to speak with Boil about implementing a regular sabacc tournament during liberty hours to begin honing the men’s skills in that direction.

“Perhaps in a few minutes,” Obi-Wan said, raising one hand to stroke along his beard to hide his smile at the blatantly crestfallen look that appeared on Longshot’s face. “There’s no rush, after all. Do you have time to stay for a bit? We could sit and relax for a spell if there’s nowhere else you need to be.”

“Oh, we can stay,” Crys said, nearly tripping over his words in his hurry to get them out. “We’re both on our off-duty rotation for the transit roster. We’d be happy to stay.”

Obi-Wan was a little taken aback at the genuine excitement the simple invitation had elicited. Surely there was no call for such a reaction to merely spending a little time in his company, heat or no. He was beginning to get worried about how much they may have built up their hopes for this visit. Merely being in the presence of a Heated omega would likely not live up to whatever thrill they were expecting.

But that was no reason to skimp on his hospitality. After all, the three of them had come together for a purpose, and to be honest, his currently hyperactive instincts were already gnawing at him from multiple angles. Here was prime nesting material, provided by two alphas from his clan, and it just lay there, neatly stacked and unused, as if he intended to reject it. Here were two of his own alphas, standing uncomfortable and unprovided for in his own space. It _itched_ in a way that he craved to remedy.

“In that case, please, sit,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing again toward the chairs around his small conference holo-table. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

He took the few steps required to square up with the nearby folded-down counter and watched out of the corner of his eye as the troopers exchanged a wordless look before moving slowly to settle into the seats he’d indicated. Obi-Wan smiled a little at how cautious they were all being; apparently his men were as worried about mishandling the delicate situation as he had been. He began heating water for drinks and reached into a cupboard to draw out a package of sweets he’d been saving for a special occasion. This certainly qualified in his book.

“Did the two of you enjoy our recent downtime on Coruscant?” he said, turning his head to speak over his shoulder.

“Sure did!” Longshot called back, and his enthusiasm seemed genuine for all that his words sounded a little forced. Well, that was to be expected. They would need to spend more time with one another socially before they truly gained the level of comfort that only grew with familiarity. “Me and a few of the boys went on a very thorough exploration of some of the cultural highlights of our Republic's capital.”

Crys snorted at the glib response. “Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Culture?”

“Um, yes? Because that’s what it _is_?”

“Sure, if you call mindlessly crawling from pub to pub, getting drunk off your faces, thrashing around spastically on dancefloors every night, _culture_...”

“Mindlessly?” Longshot interjected, his voice a humorous mix of exaggerated offense and honest objection. “ _Spastically_? We had a system, I’ll have you know. There were _checklists_ with _tactical objectives_. And for the record, I am an _amazing_ dancer, general, don’t let this lying lump of rankweed tell you otherwise.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are, Longshot,” Obi-Wan said warmly, preparing a tray and fiddling with placing the drinks and sweets on it in a way that would be visually appealing to the men he was going to be serving it to. “What ended up being your favorite destination?”

“That’s a tough one!” Longshot said, clearly leaning into the topic. “You can’t beat 79’s for the ambiance, but if you want to meet some friendly company, Dulan’s Pub is the place to be. And then there’s the Crooked Bantha...that place has amazing drink deals, you can really stretch a cred to cover a parsec there. The key is working out the perfect timing and sequencing to maximize the fun. And you can’t do that until you’ve thoroughly reconn’ed all the options.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Crys said, and Obi-Wan could practically hear the fond eye-roll in his voice.

“Oh, says the man who spent his entire liberty roaming around the exciting wilds of _book merchants_ and _story-sellers_ ,” Longshot retorted, that same thread of affection audible in his voice. “Why don’t you let loose a little and come out with us next time?”

“Pass,” Crys said simply, opening his mouth to continue, but snapping it closed as Obi-Wan turned to join them at the table, sliding the tray he’d prepared onto the surface. Without thought, he carefully placed it equi-distant between the two visiting alphas, far closer to them on the table than it was to him. He might partake himself, but truly, this was for _them_ , and he wanted to convey that as clearly as possible.

A few minutes were taken up with the small domestic acts of pouring drinks for his visitors, while he urged them to take a napkin and select from the variety of sweets he’d brought out for them to sample. Obi-Wan plucked a few up for himself, not wanting the others to feel self-conscious.

“The drinks are very hot, you may want to give them a few minutes to cool,” he warned, smiling at the serious nods he received in return. After another content bit of silence, filled with happy chewing, Obi-Wan realized their previous conversation seemed to have stalled out.

“Did I hear correctly earlier, Crys, you’re something of a book aficionado?” Obi-Wan asked, hoping to avoid both the potential awkwardness of a long silence that he knew some would feel uncomfortable within, and a genuine desire to get to know Crys better. He tried to take these opportunities whenever he could find them, but with all of their respective duties and the grueling pace of this war, they had so far been disappointingly few and far between.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Crys said, that charming blush from earlier making another appearance as he cast his eyes down to where his fingers had begun to fiddle with the remains of the sweet biscuit on his napkin. “Nothing so fancy as all that. I handle tech all day every day, so when I get a chance to relax, I just like to read.”

“Well, fancy or not, that is certainly something to be admired. Have you read anything recently that you particularly enjoyed?”

“Oh, yes!” His voice was just as animated now as Longshot’s had been earlier. “The next book in Hymet Yurniel’s current series just came out and I got to the end of it far too quickly. It was fantastic, couldn’t put it down. And I found an old, actual flimsi-bound book of Pactyun’s early works in a little shop in CoCo Town. I think the merchant had been holding on to it for a while, because I managed to bargain them down way below market value for a collector’s item like that.”

“Oh? Do you enjoy poetry then?” Obi-Wan asked, his ears metaphorically perking up at the mention of an author he greatly enjoyed himself.

“Sure, there’s a lot of great stuff out there. I know I’ve barely scratched the surface, but the way some people have with words it’s just… hard to describe, the way it can make you feel, you know?”

“I do,” Obi-Wan said. “I have a few favorites that I’ve brought out with me on datapads. If you’re ever interested in borrowing them, or even just copying down the files for your own use, please don’t hesitate. I would be happy to share them, and even happier if you’d be interested in having a discussion about your own favorites among them over tea sometime.”

“I— I’d love that, thank you so much for the offer, sir,” Crys stammered, looking over at Longshot with wide eyes. Something about the expression seemed to be a cue, because Longshot immediately sat straighter and leaned forward, actively engaging in the conversation again.

“Do you think the drinks are alright to try now, sir?”

Obi-Wan reached out and laid the backs of his fingers against the side of his mug; still hot, but no longer scathingly so. “Yes, they should be fine. Just sip slowly at first, it will still be quite hot.”

He lifted his own mug to his lips, blowing softly across the surface before taking a small drink. Longshot was the first to follow his example, copying his movements to lift his mug and pausing to blow across it just as he had.

Obi-Wan was watching closely for his reaction, and was treated to a look of pure bliss overtaking Longshot’s face when he took his first careful drink.

“Ooohhh, Crys, you have got to try this. It’s magical.”

Crys picked up his own mug and blew across the top for a moment before taking a cautious taste of his own. He immediately hummed in delight. “General, that’s _amazing_. What is it?”

“It’s called Hoth chocolate,” Obi-Wan said, a deep thrum of delight shivering through his chest at their obvious approval. “When my former Padawan was very young, he had trouble adjusting to the colder climates we would occasionally visit. I found that a sweet, hot drink would often help to encourage him in dealing with the chill he found so unpleasant.”

Two distracted hums answered him as the troopers cradled their mugs close to their faces, breathing in the fragrant steam and savoring small sips of the beverage. Not quite full purrs yet, but getting there.

Obi-Wan was perhaps halfway done with his own mug when he set it aside for the moment. Honestly, the drink had always been a little too syrupy-sweet for his taste, and he only prepared it when he had guests that he thought might enjoy it.

“Stay right there and relax,” he urged, standing from the table and wandering over to the small shelf that hung on the wall beside his desk. “Finish your drinks, I just want to find something.”

Longshot and Crys had tensed as he stood, as if bracing to rise to their feet as well, but relaxed back cautiously at his words. They watched him curiously as they continued to drink, and he smiled as he noted that the level of liquid in their mugs was significantly lower than his own already; apparently he’d been correct in guessing the drink would be to their taste. There was something uniquely satisfying about providing all the trappings of a hearth for an alpha during this time, and he revelled in the sensation.

Obi-Wan trailed his fingers over the handful of softly glowing datapads that contained his collection of literature until he touched the one he sought. There. He pulled out the device and tapped the screen to activate the menu, navigating through the options until he had narrowed down the selection to a reasonable number of choices. Turning back to the table where his guests were still sitting, their mugs empty and eyes fixed on him, he hesitated.

“I had a thought,” Obi-Wan forced himself to say through his own rising nerves, his voice as casual and un-imposing as he could make it. “You should, of course, feel absolutely free to decline, but if you were interested, perhaps you could assist me in setting up my nest with the additional materials you were so kind to provide? And then, if you wanted, I have… I have here a book with some of my personal favorite poetry selections. We could read to one another. I know it’s hardly the most exciting way to spend a free afternoon, so I certainly wouldn’t blame you for wanting to take your leave to find other pursuits once you’ve finished your drinks.”

Longshot and Crys exchanged another of those opaque, speaking looks. They looked back up at him together, and both were smiling those bright, undeniably fond smiles as they did. They practically glowed with a soft, joyful light within the Force, unmistakably pleased that he had issued the invitation. Something inside of him eased. He hadn’t truly expected to be rejected, but the assurance of the strong feelings of care and community that they were projecting were a relief nonetheless.

“That sounds great, sir,” Crys said, reaching out to take the datapad from Obi-Wan’s extended hand. “I can take a look at what you’ve got while Longshot does what he does best and makes like a beast of burden.”

Obi-Wan reached up to cover another smile as Longshot ‘lost his balance’ with a transparently obvious bout of clumsiness, knocking his hip roughly into Crys’s shoulder as he stood.

“Yeah, well, at least _one_ of us knows how to be a gentleman, I guess,” Longshot retorted, his voice full of faux-superiority. “ _I’d_ be _happy_ to help you carry the bedding, general. You know, like a properly respectful alpha _should_ do.”

“I appreciate the help, Longshot,” Obi-Wan said, his voice as solemn as he could make it. He stood aside as Longshot gathered up the precarious tower of blankets and linens from the other side of the table, pausing himself only long enough to retrieve the beautiful little afghan that Crys had so thoughtfully brought along from where he’d draped it across the back of a chair. Obi-Wan led the way into the sleeping area, hearing Longshot following closely on his heels.

“Where do you want them?”

“Just set them there for now,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing absently towards the floor near the narrow, recessed bunk. His eyes were already fixed on his nest, his mind fuzzing a little around the edges as he began furiously calculating the most effective use he could make of the delightful trove of material he had been provided. He crawled onto the mattress, rucking up the two paltry blankets that were already in place and twisting them this way and that as his vision for weaving a far better creation began to come together in his mind.

He reached out towards the stack of bedding without looking, and found a soft blanket nudging against his hand before he could get there, Longshot anticipating his need. He hummed softly in appreciation, deeper, purring rumbles escaping his chest occasionally as he continued to work. Every time he reached out for the next piece of material, weaving each one in to become part of the whole as he gathered them up one at a time, Longshot was already there, attentively providing him the means to build a nest more comfortable than any he’d known since his years living in the Temple.

Something in him relaxed when everything was nearly complete, only one more blanket needed to complete the design he’d envisioned. He could certainly function during his heats without the means to build a full, complex nest like this one, and had many times over the course of the war, but… it calmed something instinctive and primal inside himself to not have to this time, the sensation of _rightness_ settling all the more strongly in him for the powerful association with an alpha standing nearby, directly passing along such fine materials he’d gathered with his own hands.

Obi-Wan reached out for the last blanket, confident that he would be met half-way now. Rather than taking it immediately, however, this time he curled his fingers over Longshot’s wrist, gently tugging his hand close until he could pull it up, closing his eyes to savor the sensation as he nuzzled fondly against a calloused palm. Longshot’s rising, rumbling purr stoked his own, and he answered in kind, pressing a chaste kiss against the alpha’s fingers before taking the blanket from his hand and tucking it into place.

“There,” he finally said, still on his knees in the bunk, compulsively turning one way, then another, as he tweaked and patted the knotted, woven blankets and sheets arranged all around himself. The little blue pillow Cody had brought him still held pride of place, a bright point of beauty and symbol of caring that made him smile whenever he caught sight of it. When he looked up, finally satisfied, he saw that Crys had joined them in the room. He and Longshot were leaning against one another, shoulders touching, and they had seemingly traded off items at some point as well. Longshot now held the datapad while Crys was holding the brightly-woven afghan, his arms already extended in offering.

_Yes, that would truly be the final piece he needed._

Obi-Wan reached back with careful hands, but instead of taking hold of the blanket, he tugged softly at Crys’s hands that were holding it.

“It’s ready, I’m done. You can come in and join me? If you’d like?” He made no effort to hide the eagerness in his voice at the thought. His alphas in his nest; he yearned for the feeling of warmth and safety it would bring them all. “There should be just enough room for us all if we curl up a bit.”

Without a moment’s hesitation both men started moving towards the bunk, and Obi-Wan’s mind suddenly cleared long enough for one thought to crystallize.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, and as soon as the syllable left his mouth, both Longshot and Crys froze in place, their eyes wide. Obi-Wan realized his mistake and gentled his voice with a smile. “Boots off, first, if you please. And belts, and whatever else you’d like to make yourselves comfortable.”

Obi-Wan was already scooting himself back to lean against the pillow he’d positioned against the metal bulkhead at the head of the rack, careful to hold himself as close and small as he could to leave as much room as possible. Longshot and Crys shuffled around for a few moments, shedding their boots and belts, removing their stiffer outer tunics and loosening the tight collars of their blacks.

When they were ready, they climbed in, apparently already decided on how they would like things to be arranged. Longshot clambered over his legs, turning on his side and curling around him, wedging himself in between the side bulkhead and Obi-Wan’s body. Crys sat on the edge of the bed, carefully reclining down in the small space remaining, his body positioned between Obi-Wan and the door.

Obi-Wan lifted his arms and settled them around the two men, drawing them both in closer in welcome, Longshot’s head coming to rest low on his hip, Crys’s settling in a little higher against his shoulder. Obi-Wan reached out, smoothing the lovely little afghan Crys had brought over their laps, tugging a few other loose corners of blanket free until they were all tucked in, cozy and warm. Longshot handed him the datapad, his brows raised in wordless entreaty, and Obi-Wan activated it, beginning to read the first poem Crys had selected without complaint.

The two men curled up on either side of him began to rumble with loud, content purrs within minutes, his quarters otherwise quiet save for the soft sound of his own voice and the endless hum of the ship’s engines.

Obi-Wan wasn’t hesitant anymore. They were all running on instinct now and he embraced the warmth and confidence it brought. He reached out and ran his fingers through Crys’s golden hair, grinning when the touch caused the pleased purrs to increase in intensity. He enjoyed the tactile sensations of it, silky strands of hair running through his fingers, the warmth of Crys’s scalp under his fingertips as he pressed in gently and rubbed them in small circles at the end of some of his strokes. There wasn’t even a hint of his darker natural color even as Obi-Wan continued to ruffle his hair with careful touches; he had been assiduous with the application of his hair dye for as long as Obi-Wan knew him.

Obi-Wan grew more drowsy as feelings of peace and contentment saturated the space and he had to briefly interrupt his reading to let a yawn escape. His thoughts began to wander as he felt Longshot curl his fingers around one of Obi-Wan’s ankles, the man snuggling in beside him even closer as his thoughts began to drift closer to sleep. The strokes of his own fingers through Crys’s hair began to slow as he felt himself beginning to slip closer to slumber as well. He could recall one last thought before he let the world slip away, everything fading into a pleasant haze of comfort and peace.

_It’s so lovely and soft; I must remember to ask him what product he uses to condition it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the encouragement to write a chapter with cuddles involving other troopers, and especially to Wrennette for the lovely idea of hair-stroking that latched into my brain and wouldn't let go. :)
> 
> Honestly, no idea if inspiration will strike again to add more to this 'verse, but I'd certainly be happy if it did!


End file.
